The Howling
by CharcoalFaith
Summary: In a world of Pureblood politics Ophelia is furious to realise her Father is marrying her off to the arrogant Heir to the House of Black. When an unwanted marriage is on the horizon the threat of a new Dark Lord rising to power just doesn't seem that important, well, not until you're face to face with him. Tom Riddle/OC
1. Chapter 1

-Selwyn Castle 28th July 1995

Night had fallen on Selwyn Castle, not that it made much of a difference, the sun was rarely granted access to the dark, foreboding structure. Once the proud seat of one of the most prominent Sacred 28 families the castle had crept into disrepair in the past couple of decades.

The Selwyns had risked much with their open support for the Dark Lord in the first Wizarding War and had seemingly lost it all.

A solitary House Elf shuffled through the corridors, lighting the occasional oil lamp and checking the window shutters. The family were gone for the evening, dining out at a more affluent Pureblood estate, still welcome in the most elite of circles by virtue of their incredibly pure blood, although somewhat looked down upon due to their financial situation.

The politics of the Wizarding elite were lost on Bibba though, the aging elf was just glad of the respite. She was getting old, she could feel it in her bones and the running of the castle, once entrusted to nearly 20 elves now rested entirely with her.

She turned down the next corridor wracking her brains, she was sure she'd forgotten something. The doors were locked, the kitchens clean, the fires still burning, she'd swept the corridors and polished the goblin made silver until it gleamed. There was tea laid out for the Masters when they returned home and yet, still she worried.

Ears drooping with exhaustion the elf gave in and turned to the Kitchens and towards her bed. Whatever it was, she could catch up on it tomorrow she mused as she settled into her nook by the pantry door.

As the elf began to snore a shaft of moonlight filtered in through a high window and fell upon the dusty shelves in the corner, there, half hidden behind a bag of rice a crystal vial began to glow, first blue, then green and then a variety of beautiful hues before settling back down to a milky white.

Six flights up, in the disused wing of the ancient castle, something began to stir.


	2. Chapter 2

-16th December 1974

Ophelia Lancaster was beyond furious, so far beyond furious she'd nearly cursed Alice Leaver for daring to ask for the Pumpkin Juice.

The source of her ire was a letter sitting atop her toast, the focus of it was sat opposite her, trying and failing to convince the 7th Year prefect Joanna Bones to go to Hogsmead with him.

'Sirius Black, for ones in your privileged life would you SHUT THE FUCK UP!'

No one really reacted to Ophelia's outburst, it was hardly unusual, her and the eldest Black got along about as well as Dumbledore and Grindelwald.

He barely batted an eyelid. 'Pot. Kettle. Black. I'm no more privileged than you are, now what's got your knickers in a twist?'

Lia was either about to tear him a new one or burst into tears when a handsome snowy owl soared the length of the Griffindor table and deposited a hefty scroll in his lap.

She forced herself to breathe, 'Have a read of that Black, go on, and then ask me again what's got my knickers in a twist.'

Sirius wasn't keen on opening the scroll, it was from home, that much he could tell from the elaborate Black coat of arms imprinted on the wax seal. That was bad enough, but Lancaster looked on the verge of crying or seriously assaulting someone and he couldn't help but notice she too had received a large scroll from home.

Carefully he broke the seal, inside were three sheaths of parchment, the first a letter from his Mother; Standard. The second from his Father; Less normal. The third; Was this a joke? Was that a betrothal agreement?

Sirius decided to start at the beginning, his Mother.

_My Beloved Son._

Sirius scoffed at that, as far as his Mother was concerned, he was the devil.

_I am writing to inform you of most felicitous news. Your Father, with no small effort on his part, has secured for yourself the hand in marriage of the Daughter of Marcus Lancaster, Miss Ophelia Lancaster who is herself, the sole heir to Lancaster Hall. _

_I know I need not impress upon you my Son, just how favourably this marriage will be looked upon by our own extended family and how much honour your father does you by bestowing it upon you when he could have chosen to gift it to your Brother-_

Here Sirius didn't struggle to read between the lines. His Father could not have offered Marcus Lancaster Regulus, not without the man inquiring why the elder son was unsuitable. Aside from his public sorting into Griffindor his parents had more or less managed to keep Sirius' distaste for the Purebood lifestyle under wraps.

_I am led to believe that Ophelia Lancaster is a beautiful, modest young lady who would make any husband a happy man and I'm sure she'd make a doting mother to your children who'd also benefit from her impeccable lineage._

Looking across the table Sirius couldn't help but think his mother was in for a shock. Ophelia was beautiful, there was no denying that, she had porcelain skin, shiny black curls that hung down to her waist, and Slytherin green eyes. Beautiful? Yes. But modest? Not exactly. Ophelia was clever and magically gifted, coming top in almost every practical assignment. She was also argumentative, confrontational and viciously hostile to authority figures.

He also shuddered a little at the mention of her 'impeccable lineage'. His Mother was referring of course to the Lancaster's being proven descendants of Morgana herself. As the first daughter born to the House of Lancaster in nearly 500 years Ophelia was, according to legend a 'Daughter of Morgana' and therefore should possess magical abilities beyond that of an ordinary witch.

Sirius had never seen anything of the sort, sure, she was good at some stuff, but not significantly better than her peers, just more stupid superstition, no doubt invented by the Lancasters to try and improve their standing.

_I trust you will approach this situation with the dignity befitting a Son of our Noble House, and your Father will, of course be taking an active role in guiding you through the process to ensure it is completed to everybody's satisfaction. Congratulations My Son on securing such a worthy match that I'm sue will bring you many years of joy._

_Your Loving Mother._

A little shell-shocked Sirius set the letter down nervously and reached for his Fathers, it was a lot shorter.

_My Son and Heir,_

_I trust your Mother has taken the steps to inform you of your upcoming Betrothal to Ophelia Lancaster, daughter of Marcus Lancaster. You are to complete the enclosed Betrothal Agreement as soon as possible and return it to me by Thursday at the latest. You will also be returning home for Christmas as your presence will be required to finalise some details and to help to plan the wedding. I will remind you My Son the severe cost of disobedience or petty rebellion. I will not allow you to tarnish the honour of My House, once and for all you will fall in line and do your duty. _

_Orion Black._

Slowly Sirius raised his eyes to meet the girl in front of him, he wasn't really sure what he'd expected, fury? But those green eyes were scared.

'Shall we take a walk Black?'

Sirius nodded, gathered his post and rose to leave. Joanna Bones threw him a filthy look and James grabbed his sleeve, 'Where you going mate? I thought we were going to practice the Wobbling Falcon?' He looked curiously between Sirius and Ophelia. Sure, Lancaster was fit, but Sirius hated her, where were they going?

'Later Mate, I'll explain when I get back.' And he followed Ophelia as she strode from the room.

They ended up in one of the exterior courtyards, quiet for the moment as breakfast was still in full swing.

'I'll show you mine if you show me yours.' Lancaster tried to joke, but her voice broke halfway through, Sirius had the mad urge to comfort her, but she'd only curse him so instead he just handed her the letters and took hers in return, settling down on a plant pot to read.

_My Darling Daughter, _

_It is with a heavy heart that I must reject your request to intern at the Ministry of Magic this summer, whilst I do personally believe it to be unsuitable for good, pureblood girls like yourself to be entering the workplace at any point in their lives I do understand that times are changing and that young witches do sometimes have a need to make something of themselves if a good husband is, for some reason unavailable._

_That being said, this is most definitely not a situation that you, my daughter find yourself in. It is for this reason particularly that I am writing to you today. I am overjoyed to announce that Orion Black has requested your hand for his eldest son and Heir Sirius. I have of course accepted this offer and fully negotiated the betrothal and marriage contracts on your behalf, I am sure you will find them more than satisfactory. _

_I have enclosed a copy of the betrothal agreement for you to read and request that you return home at Christmas so you can join in preparations for the upcoming nuptials. I don't have to tell you how overjoyed your Mother is, and how relieved she is to know you'll be comfortably settled._

_Your Father._

As he looked up Lia was pulling out his Betrothal contract,

'Why do you have to fill yours in? Mine doesn't require any input at all, it's just already decided!'

Sirius sighed, 'As a man I'm expected to take care of my own affairs, not that I have any more choice than you do in this, but as a delicate woman you're not required to do any legal legwork, it'd be too strenuous for you.'

He'd tried to inject some irony into his voice and it obviously worked because the witch didn't try and curse him.

'How is this still legal? It's ridiculous! You don't want to marry me! Do you?'

Sirius quickly shook his head.

'Not really, no. No offense or anything but you're a bit too full on for me.'

Ophelia was so upset she didn't even bother to be offended.

'To hell with my Father! How many times did I tell him I didn't want to be married? That I didn't want to be sold off like a piece of meat? And what did he do? Just shake his head indulgently at me like I was a child having a tantrum!'

She was so riled up she was basically squaring up to him. Carefully Sirius put his hands on her shoulders and manipulated her into sitting down.

'I'm sorry Black, I know-' She paused to angrily dash tears from her eyes, 'I know you don't want this either, but at least you'd still get to swan off and have a career, this is my entire life planned out for me, all my plans, all of my hard work, up in smoke thanks to one shitty piece of paper!'

'Calm down, we've got some time, Witches can't legally be married until they're 16, when's your birthday?'

'April.' She exhaled relieved, 'Not until April 23rd!'

'Right, see, that's not so bad, we've four months, we can do loads in four months, but first we need to answer these letters, now I think we should go along with it- Now let me finish!' Lia's face had turned to thunder at that suggestion.

'We need to go along with it, let them think we're going to go through with it, hopefully they'll back off a bit and we'll have some breathing room to figure out a way out of it.'

She looked sceptical, 'I don't think my father will buy that.'

'Well then you'll need to sell it, tell him you've fancied me for ages, easy to believe, tell him you think I'll be alright with you finishing Hogwarts, whatever it takes.'

Finally the dark haired witch was nodding.

'At least I won't need to write a long reply, you on the other hand,' She tapped his contract, 'Have some paper work to do.'

-Lancaster Hall 23rd December 1974

Daella Lancaster slid the priceless emerald comb into her daughters elaborately braided and pinned hair. Ophelia had, Daella mused, taken the news of her betrothal pretty well. She'd expected the argument to last all the way up to the wedding itself which was now officially set for May 3rd, but her daughter had surprised her. She'd expressed her annoyance to her father for not consulting her at all but had confessed to her mother that she was actually rather taken with her new fiancé. The young lad was, Daella had heard, very handsome.

'There now Love, don't you look splendid!'

Ophelia mused at her reflection in the mirror, her mother had dressed her in silky green dress robes shot with gold and pinned her curls so expertly that a Grecian goddess would have been jealous. The robes were cut in a daring low v at the front and emeralds glimmered around her throat, vivid against her pale skin.

Any other event she'd have been overjoyed, but today she looked in the mirror and saw a good pureblood wife, it made her sick to her stomach.

'Come now Dear, what's the matter?' Ophelia managed a weak smile.

'Just the nerves I think Mother.'

'Of course! It's normal to be nervous, I remember my betrothal ball! I was convinced I'd trip over dancing and your father would call the whole thing off, but now my own Mother-'

Ophelia tuned her Mother out, focusing instead on the image of Lily Evans, her best friend, who was, even now on Christmas Eve, stuck in the Hogwarts Library amongst stacks and stacks of Legal journals desperately searching for a way to save her friend. She wasn't alone, although she probably wished she was. She was instead joined by Remus Lupin and James Potter, both equally fervent in their desire to help_ their_ friend.

Evans would find a way.

Or at least, that's what Lia told herself as her mother rambled on.

Betrothal Balls are generally big and flashy, but when the House of Black is to be joined to the House of Lancaster the ball must be bigger and flashier than any other.

Ophelia's feet hurt from dancing and her jaw hurt from faking a simpering smile. Luckily she didn't actually have to say much, just cling to Sirius' arm and laugh at his jokes but occasionally one of the women would pull her into a painfully boring conversation about the latest fashion, or the latest scandal.

A reprieve appeared halfway through the night when Ophelia, about to be introduced to yet another Dolohov and his tall guest was interrupted by Geraldine Longbottom, a 7th year Ravenclaw who engaged Lia in a genuine conversation about the sudden uptick in Historical Artefact thefts. Geraldine was an intelligent, well-spoken girl who Ophelia didn't usually socialize with at Hogwarts, but here, amongst a crowd of ego maniacs and air headed women she seized on the opportunity for stimulating conversation.

At first Dolohov and his companion ignored them, discussing Slughorns upcoming retirement with Sirius instead, but eventually the tall, dark haired man was drawn into the conversation with the two witches instead.

'I mean, some of the older families are moving their collections to Gringotts, they haven't done that since Grindelwald was in power, but they're losing faith in their security.' Geraldine was telling Ophelia.

'It must be a truly gifted sorcerer to overcome the level of defences that the Crouch's were employing at Sallygate. Or did you say it was a team of them?'

'The Prophet speculated that it might be, but they've not got any proof.'

At this point the handsome stranger cut in, 'I'm sorry Ladies but what was it you said was taken from the Crouch's?'

'Not much actually, the Addlebrand Pensieve was actually on loan to the Ministry for a presentation and the Auror's think that was what they were after, but they did steal some original copies of historical spell books, including a first edition of the Williams Grimoire.'

The stranger nodded but at this point seemed to be losing interest in the conversation when suddenly Geraldine asked 'So your Father obviously isn't concerned about the Howling then?' And nodded towards the grand fire place at the far end of the hall.

Here the crowd was far thinner, like people were keeping their distance. Above the hearth was a huge slab of engrave obsidian which read '_Strong is the blood, Strong is the fury, Strong is the hate that runs in her veins._' and there on a small plinth was an ancient knife, no longer than the span of Ophelia's arm, The Howling, as the knife was named, invoked fear in all who approached it despite its small size.

As the small group turned their attention to it, all felt a shiver down their spine, even the tall dark-haired man with a heart of ice. Ophelia alone was unaffected as she laughed lightly, 'Heaven help the thief stupid enough to try and take The Howling.'

'Aren't you supposed to be able to wield it?' Dolohov asked sceptically. Ophelia shook her head.

'According to some legends, but I'm not stupid enough to try, it's not worth losing my mind over.'

The dark-haired man interrupted Dolohov's reply and the pureblood was instantly silent, 'Perhaps Miss Lancaster, you'd like to dance?'

Lia looked a little taken aback but just asked, 'I'd love to Sir, but I don't yet know your name?'

'Tom, Tom Riddle.' He answered her, as he took her hand and guided her to the dance floor.

Riddle had had no interest in the women as they'd flittered around discussing silk and lace and other ridiculousness. He'd barely been interested in the men's conversation of politics and finance, but a snippet of conversation had drawn him in.

It was Black's soon to be Lady Wife, a pretty young witch in green dress robes that hugged her figure, she was discussing thefts with another, far plainer witch and Riddle had been interested until he realised, they weren't true items of power, just historical trinkets. But then the plain one had referenced The Howling. It wasn't a term Riddle had heard before, but she indicated towards the darker end of the hall and there, resting on a bed of obsidian was a knife.

Just looking at it made him feel uneasy, he'd noticed the feeling all evening but he now realised it came specifically from this object, perhaps this was a true item of power?

A brief exchange between the girl and Dolohov had implied he couldn't just go and take the knife so he decided the pretty little witch was worth a little more attention.

She was, he decided, an excellent dancer, and as he twirled her around, he tried to engage her in conversation about The Howling.

'Supposedly it was Morgana's.' She told him.

'According to legend it was the knife she used to kill Merlin, and when she too died from the wounds she sustained in the duel, she somehow bound her soul to it.'

Now this was fascinating Tom mused, it sounded like she'd created a Horcrux, perhaps the very first of its kind, a crude, imperfect version of the ones he'd made himself.

'In order to return from the dead?'

Ophelia screwed her face up, confused.

'Erm, not exactly, Morgana didn't want to live, but she didn't want to die and risk crossing over to whatever lay beyond, because there she'd have to face not just Merlin but also the husband that she betrayed. Her solution essentially left her in limbo, similar to a ghost, but without full form.'

'So why couldn't a thief just come in here and take it?'

'Are you kidding?' She looked incredulous. Riddle felt a flash of anger and tightened his grip harshly on the little witch's waist, he was rewarded with a sharp intake of breath.

'I am not kidding Miss Lancaster.'

Flustered now Lia raced to answer him.

'Morgana was angry, vengeful, powerful and mad, if you pick up The Howling, that's what consumes you. All of it, yes, you get the power that you crave, but eventually her pain and bitterness overtake you. Supposedly a Daughter of Morgana can withstand the madness long enough to use the power, a pureblood woman would probably have a minute, maybe less, but a man would be driven insane immediately.

'Even your father? A Son of Morgana? Would he not be able to wield it?'

'There's no such thing as a Son of Morgana, she disowned all of her sons, it was her daughter that built Lancaster Hall over Morgana's grave. My father is a son of the House of Lancaster, but not a Son of Morgana.'

Riddle nodded satisfied with the information, it was an interesting concept, perhaps not to be pursued immediately, but maybe at a late date.

'Tell me Little Witch, how are you going to get out of marrying your betrothed?'

She froze immediately in his arms.

'I don't know what you're talking about.' She told him in a deadpan voice, looking him straight in the eye.

Riddle took the opportunity to slide into her mind. At first, he got a couple of hazy images but then he was shoved so violently out of her mind he nearly fell over. His ears were ringing and there was a metallic taste in his mouth as he steadied himself on the witch in front of him.

Her green eyes that were expressionless a second ago were now swimming with fear.

'I am a Daughter of Morgana, and this is Lancaster Hall, you'd do well to remember where you're standing, lest you bring her wrath down on both of our heads.' She whispered to him before hurriedly making her way back to her betrothed.

Interesting. Very interesting.


End file.
